The 9th: Dust and Death
by English Bob
Summary: The 9th Cthonian Mechanised has been posted to the desert world of Corran VII to deal with a rebel uprising, but things are not all that simple.....Chap 2 up! Please,please,please leave a review with our comments and suggestions etc.
1. Prologue Part 1: DIETER!

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000 or any related products. I do own a large Imperial Guard army but this is NOT A SELF INSERT! This is my first fanfic so please R&R.

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Corran VII is a harsh desert world in the Segmentum Pacifus. Separated for 20 years from the Imperiums influence by violent warp storms, the populace turned away from the Emperors light and created their own government. The Ministorum has despatched forces to deal with the poorly equipped rebel annoyance. Six full Imperial Guard regiments have been deployed to the world among them are the 9th Cthonian mechanised, transferred from putting down a rouge cardinal on Scallous IV. Posted to the G'yuin desert that covers over half the surface of Corran, the 9th Cthonian are currently being held in reserve for an all out assault on Hive Rivan………..

----------------------Corran VII-------08.43 SIT------------------

The smell of promethium and sweat hung in the air. A man in his late 20s rose slowly to his feet from his bunk in the squalid barracks, awoken by the sound of shouting. He was of a strong build with broad shoulders and a heavy set figure but his most distinguishing feature was the scar that ran across the left side of his face to the glowing bionic eye. The man walked outside, shielding his eyes from the sun as he picked up a canteen on the table on his way out. He took a swig of its contents before spitting it out on the sandy floor.

'Pah! What the feth is this stuff!' he said eyeing the canteen suspiciously before remembering the shouting that had disturbed his sleep. Throwing the canteen in a bush, he scanned the compound with his one good eye before yelling **'DIETER!'**

A younger man in his early twenties stumbled out of one of the buildings, his face still covered with shaving foam as he desperately struggled to pull on his infantryman's jacket. Stumbling towards the older man, he hastily buttoned up his shirt and saluted

'Yes Sir Sergeant Vikes Sir!'

'Its 'sarge' or 'sergeant' Dieter! Do I look like an officer to you Private!' yelled Vikes.

'No sarge! You look like a sergeant sarge!'

'Are you eyeballin' me private!' he roared.

'No sarge!' the petrified recruit cried, wondering if even commissar Pietkoff could eyeball Vikes, he thought not.

'At ease!' the private visibly slumped in silent relief. The sergeant turned away, a smirk on his usually dour face. 'Private Dieter, unless you are planning on convincing the rebels you are a cream cake, and you are clearly not, I suggest that you rinse that fake beard off sharpish!'. He laughed as the private ran off behind one of the outbuildings. He lit a cigarette as he watched the scrawny young man return and stand at ease in front of him.

'That's better private, now, who in Thans name is making that bloody noise!'

'Oh, well sarge, er…. you see, Dranser, Proick and Sventer are having this sort of er… competition round the back of four……….' his voice trailed off.

'Well, well….'.Vikes turned around and strode off towards block four, a confused and anxious Dieter following in his wake.


	2. Prologue Part 2: DRANSER!

A/N: Hello! This is going to be the second chapter of a three part prologue to introduce the characters and help me get used to the whole doc manager/chapter thing. Also if you even look at this please leave a review! I really want some feedback on this fic, good, bad or questions etc. so please leave a review those of you who read this silently and say nothing (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!)

Anyhow on with the fic……….

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**Prologue part 2: DRANSER!**

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The crackling sound of las-rounds reverberated off the walls surrounding a large group of men, many with money clasped in their hands. They were all jostling around two men in particular. Another soldier stepped forward; he had the stocky build of a Pyhtos miner, and wore his corporal's jacket in the traditional off the shoulder style of the Cthonian nobility, and retained a charismatic smile as he drew the attention of the crowd, collecting money as he went.

'BETS ARE NOW CLOSED GENTLEMAN! The man shouted to the crowd 'DO NOT WORRY; ALL YOUR TRANSACTIONS CAN BE HANDLED BY OUR PRIVATE HELLER HERE!' He motioned towards a scrawny rat of a man who was skulking around the sidelines, smoking a dog end like it was a conspiracy.

'Just get on with it Dranser!' came a shout from he crowd.

His smile not fading, the man continued 'Okay, okay! Here, we have two of the finest marksmen fair Cthonia can provide.'

'Ahem!' came from the shadows around the back of the barrack block.

'You don't count Frenair, you don't give anyone half a chance to shoot back!' came a cry from the crowd followed by raucous laughter.

'AS I WAS SAYING! Here, we have Herstral Proick and Frejkn Sventer competing in a contest of skill, first to knock all the cans off the far wall using single shot is the winner!'

The crowd parted to let the two men at the centre take aim with their lasguns at the railing at the far end of the yard. 'One, Two, Three, FIRE!' The men began to crack shots off at the cans on the rail, dropping them one by one with extreme precision until only one, the furthest, remained. Both took aim, but a deafening bang resounded around the compound as the can exploded in a shower of metal. The crowd turned to find Vikes standing there, smoking bolt pistol in hand, bionic eye resetting from scope mode. A distressed Dieter standing behind, wringing his cap between his hands. At once the crowd stood to attention in various states of dress, even Dranser had his usually unmovable smile wiped off his face as Vikes moved towards him.

'Corporal Dranser, I was not notified that you had become a member of the nobility, nor that it was permissible to gamble on regimental ground, OR that live fire ammunition was allowed in the barrack compound! So tell me corporal Why In Feths Name AM I SEEING ALL OF THIS IN FRONT OF MY FETHING BARRACK!' Yelled Vikes at Dransers face, showering him in spit and causing the man to flinch visibly under the tirade of remarks.

'S-s-s-ssaarrgeentt V-v-vikes, I, I-I mean we were..'

'NOT GOOD ENOUGH CORPORAL! GET ON THE DIRT NOW AND DON'T YOU GET BACK UP UNTIL THE DUST IS COMING OUT OF YOUR FETHING EARS!' Vikes screamed and Dranser fell to the floor rapidly doing push-ups to appease the demon sergeants wrath but his efforts were cut short by the sound of approaching vehicles from outside the compound. 'Squad 2 Fooorrrm up! Snapped Vikes as the men an towards the sorry excuse for a parade ground. As Dranser ran past he was grabbed roughly by the arm to see Vikes glaring at him before throwing him away again 'This ain't over Dranser, not by a long way'………

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A/N: Hey there! Once again I would like to thank you for the few reviews I've had so far and I would really appreciate some feedback on this fic with your thoughts, comments, queries and suggestions etc. Constructive criticism is welcomed but pleases no unwarranted flames; this **is** my first fic after all…….

SITStandard Imperial Time

Till next time cya…..


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